Mommy Dearest

Three things this week: we are very busy here at the festival office, I really loved Nikki Gemmell‘s new novel, and my mother has been staying with me.

Of The Book of Rapture Nikki Gemmell says “This one’s about a woman’s softening into accepting – and respecting – difference”. I love the passion of the novel and the protagonist. Her love for her children is bigger than anything.

Which brings me to my own mother, who has been paying her annual visit. She too is enormously loving. She is however the biggest drama magnet I’ve ever encountered. First we had the Mystery of the Missing Shirt. I told her it was windy and that she should peg carefully, but did she listen? It blew off the washing line and she went in search up and down the street, to no avail. After fretting all night over the loss of her favourite shirt, she set off once again at sunrise the following morning in search of the prodigal polyester.

“Neen, do you think it could have blown onto the roof of the shed?” she asked. “Well, stranger things have happened” I replied. So because she doesn’t like the stairs, I went up to have a look out the window, and lo and behold, there was the precious shirt on top of the shed. It was retrieved with the aid of a stool and long barbeque tongs. Mum was very happy.

But the very next day came the Great Bathroom Flood of 2009. “Neen, I can’t use the guest bathroom, can I use yours?” says Mum. “Why can’t you use the guest bathroom?” I ask with suspicion. “Because of all the water on the floor”. Hmmmm. Turns out the bathroom ‘mysteriously’ flooded that morning (12 hours previously) when she was showering, but she didn’t mop it up because she thought it would miraculously evaporate. Or something. So I stomp upstairs with the mop to find… a swamp. 15 minutes and many swear words later it is dry again.

Third in the trifecta was the Incident of the Elevator. We went to the lovely Sun Theatre in Yarraville, and after the film Mum decided she didn’t want to descend via the stairs but would prefer the elevator. So I went down the stairs and waited for her at the bottom. And waited. And waited a bit more. Just as I was about to go in search, she came giggling through the crowd.

She had gone into the old-fashioned lift which had a manual door, and when she realised she couldn’t read the buttons without her glasses, had started rummaging in her handbag for them. Before she could find the glasses the light went out and she was in total darkness. She couldn’t even tell if the lift was moving. Finally she managed to wrestle the door open again, and decided it was much safer to take the stairs after all.

Fun and games.

See you at the festival.

Nina
Development Manager